


like a supernova

by falloutgirl



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M, Sith AU, Sith Obi-Wan, i am weak for sithlord obi wan kenobi rip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 09:11:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6323521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falloutgirl/pseuds/falloutgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Obi Wan is shaking, and burning, and coiled tight like a spring. He looks downright predatory, like he will eat Anakin raw.</p><p>Anakin isn’t sure if he’d stop him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like a supernova

**Author's Note:**

> written nonstop from 9pm-3am, and finally proofread and fixed up today.  
> I hope you all enjoy this xoxo

“You lied to me,” Anakin tastes the words as they fall out of his mouth. Vile. Bitter. Sour.

He has not known anger like this.

“It was for your own good,” Obi Wan says. And Anakin looks at him, sizes him up, he drags his eyes up and down Obi Wan’s frame. Everything looks the same – the robes, the hair, the stance, the accent – Obi Wan doesn’t look any different.

But the _eyes._

Anakin meets Obi Wan’s gaze and where blue – _so_ blue he could get lost in it – once resided, now sits the dark burnished yellow of the Sith.

Anakin puts a hand on his stomach. He is going to be _sick_.

“When did it happen? Were you ever going to tell me?” Anakin circles around Obi Wan, looking for a weak spot. He knows – he _knows_ how this will end.

Anakin knows what he will have to do.

“After Qui Gon died,” Obi Wan starts, unaffected by Anakin’s pacing, stance as relaxed as when Anakin confronted him an hour before. “I felt the call then, the pull, and the dark want of the Force. When I held Qui Gon’s body in my arms, when I _watched him die_ – it was easy.”

“You disgust me.”

“You say that to me Anakin like you don’t know what it feels like to love someone so much you’d do anything for them. You don’t know what love can drive people to do.”

Anakin runs a hand through his hair and looks away, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Obi Wan tsks, “Oh, but you do. Did you think I was stupid enough to not know about Padmé? About your relationship?”

“Shut up!” Anakin stops and meets Obi Wan’s yellow gaze. “You don’t know anything about – about me and Padmé, you don’t understand.”

“I see you’ve once again underestimated _me_ ,” Obi Wan moves closer to Anakin, each step echoing in the empty hangar. Obi Wan looks like a looming figure, an icon right out of Anakin’s nightmares, the dragon on the edges of his consciousness. “You’ve once again forgotten who I am. And _what_ I am.”

“You’re a _Sith_ ,” Anakin spits the word out like an insult, like maybe if he imbues it with enough hatred it’ll increase the distance between he and Obi Wan – that maybe if he puts enough disgust into his words he won’t feel like he’s severely close to cutting a piece of himself out.

His heart _burns_ , with the desire to both kill and be killed. Anakin has always walked the fine line between his chaos and his serenity, the never ending tightrope dance of what it meant to be a Jedi. He looks at Obi Wan, and even through the layers of betrayal, the heartache, the months spent burning through every galactic contact he ever amassed – just to get a whiff of the trail of a ghost story, only to find nothing but the remnants of destroyed lives in it’s wake – Anakin still _wants._

“I am a Sith,” Obi Wan says and it brings Anakin back to his current predicament, “there are things I have done that you wouldn’t understand. People I have loved that –“ Obi Wan cuts himself off, and lets out a rough exhale. “Your love for Padmé is soft, and pure. Fragrantly sweet. Like a Corellian rose. But roses always _wilt._ ”

Anakin raises a hand to slap Obi Wan’s face without thinking, but before it makes contact, Obi Wan has his wrist in a tight grip. “Now isn’t the time for impulsivity, Anakin. You can do better than a slap on the face.”

Obi Wan doesn’t let his grip falter, and Anakin struggles under the vice of his hold. He turns his head away, anger burning beneath the surface, so much rage directed at his former Jedi Master.

“You killed all those people, Obi Wan; what would the Council say?”

“Their opinion doesn’t matter to me.”

“How could you be so sure?”

“I wasn’t theirs to keep. Not after Naboo. Not after everything I’ve been through. How can you still follow them, my boy? When they’ve led you to me like an animal for slaughter?”

Anakin grits his teeth and tries not to let it show how Obi Wan’s words affect him – how they have always affected him. “I’m not your boy, not anymore.”

“Anakin, we both know that’s not true.”

“Stop it! I don’t know you anymore.”

Obi Wan takes his other hand and caresses Anakin’s cheek, “You know, Qui Gon’s death may have lured me to the dark side, but it did not cement my path. That was… something else entirely.”

Anakin feels a shiver run up his body. His mouth goes dry at the thought, the one singular desire he has never let himself think about since the beginning of the war. Without thought, Anakin leans into the touch. Obi Wan’s hand on his face freezes, as if for a moment he didn’t think Anakin would lean in. A smirk spreads across Obi Wan’s face.

“Perhaps you are as disgusting as I am.”

Anakin bites the inside of his cheek. “You don’t understand.”

Obi Wan’s grip gets tighter, “Perhaps you are as vile as me.” Obi Wan won’t meet his eyes. His thumb rests on the corner of Anakin’s mouth, holding it open.

“Obi Wan,” Anakin breathes out, moving his lips to wrap around Obi Wan’s thumb, but Obi Wan releases his grip and jumps back as if Anakin has burned him.

“Don’t touch me,” Obi Wan lashes out, and his eyes sizzle in their rage. Anakin looks at him. He is shaking, and burning, and coiled tight like a spring. Obi Wan looks downright predatory, like he will eat Anakin raw.

Anakin isn’t sure if he’d stop him.

“Obi Wan, please. Follow me. Let’s go home.”

“There is no home for me.”

Anakin shakes with anger and lets out a large sigh, “Obi Wan, please, please. Let me save you. Let me help you come back.”

“It has been years. There’s no going back.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Obi Wan, please,” Anakin’s voice cracks as a few tears spill down his cheeks. He cannot lose Obi Wan. He _can’t._

“I said no.” Obi Wan turns away from him.

Anakin’s mind races as he thinks of the few options he has left. He can leave this hangar right now, can abandon one of only two people left alive in the galaxy who have ever loved him, he can leave Obi Wan here to rot and never look back.

He can kill him, too. Anakin can ignite the lightsaber that weighs heavy on his hip, and cut Obi Wan down to size. He can kill him like he’s supposed to, uphold the feeble Jedi Code and run back to Coruscant with a victory on his shoulders, and the word hero on the Council’s lips. It’d be one less problem for the republic. One less worry. One less Sith Lord.

And one less best friend.

Or –

Anakin falls to his knees.

“ _Master_ ,” he speaks, and the world tilts on its axis.

Obi Wan whips his head back around so quickly, and Anakin sees in the outline of his shadow how Obi Wan almost stumbles. The picture he must make here, in an abandoned hangar on a backwater planet that never had a purpose in the galaxy except as spoils in a never ending war, on his knees in front of his former Jedi Master, who went missing eighteen months ago during the siege along the outer rim.

“What are you doing, Anakin?”

“I am pledging my allegiance.”

“You are more of a fool than I thought you were.”

“You don’t mean that,” Anakin says and looks up from the ground at Obi Wan’s eyes. The yellow that burned like dirty bronze, reminds Anakin of the shine before the supernova. The moment right before a star swallows itself whole and destroys everything in its path. Obi Wan has always burned too brightly to be contained.

“And what if I do mean it? What will you do?” Obi Wan paces in front of Anakin.

“I live to serve my Master.” Anakin’s knees dig into the dirty, hard, floor. He will not get up until he is told too. He clasps his hands together behind his back.

“Do you know what you are offering me? Do you know what you are turning away?”

“I know.”

“I don’t think you do. You stupid boy. Get up.”

Anakin listens intently and rises from the ground. “Master, please.”

“Do not call me _Master_.”

“But that is what you are to me. I _pledge_ my life to you. I am in your service until I die.”

“I don’t want you!” Obi Wan shouts, and suddenly the world shutters in on itself. His words echo in the empty hangar, every reverberation a stab to Anakin’s gut.

_I don’t want you._

Anakin should’ve known, and yet, he can’t stop the tears he feels falling down his face, can’t control the hand he lifts as he spins Obi Wan to face him.

“Fine,” Anakin says, and his voice is nothing but a whisper. His eyes are clouded with tears and he can feel nothing past the ice cold burn of rejection. “Have it your way.”

In one hot flash, Anakin reaches for his lightsaber and ignites it.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Anakin.” Obi Wan says, and the hardness is back in his tone, back in his posture and back in his eyes. The supernova is on the horizon, Anakin sees. And he will either live to see it destroy him or he will die in the blink before the end.

Anakin breathes hard through his nose, “I can’t lose you, Obi Wan. I won’t.” Anakin stares at the light of his saber, the one guardian he has had with him this entire journey. The only constant in his life for the last year and a half, when he fled from the Council on a one man mission to save his best friend.

Perhaps, more than a best friend.

He powers the lightsaber down.

“Take it,” Anakin says, and rolls it across the floor to Obi Wan’s feet.

Obi Wan gives him a strange look, obviously not expecting Anakin to do something as rash as give up his only weapon.

“What are you doing?”

“I surrender. Kill me, Obi Wan. Because I will not kill you. I would rather _die_ than kill you.”

Obi Wan kicks the lightsaber back to Anakin. “Pick up your weapon, boy. That is your _life._ I don’t have to be a Jedi to remind you of that.”

“No,” Anakin chokes out, “you were my life.”

Anakin watches as Obi Wan’s face goes through several shades of emotions – he is fear and hatred and sadness and anger and confusion and _hope_. Anakin has only ever seen Obi Wan wear that expression once before, when they were fighting back to back with no back up, deep in enemy territory in a swampy hellhole, with only each other to lean on. Anakin can recognize hope on Obi Wan’s face like he can recall the way sadness looks in his own eyes. He has seen sadness every morning in the mirror for the last two years.

“You don’t understand what you mean.”

“I do.”

“We were brothers in arms. That’s _it._ That’s all we ever _were._ ”

Anakin looks away, “I wanted… I always wanted more.”

Anakin remembers one moment, on that same night when they fought alone. Obi Wan was so tired, but he wouldn’t sleep, he wanted Anakin to rest before he did. But Anakin wouldn’t stop pestering him, wouldn’t stop telling him he needed to rest, and after an hour of bickering, Obi Wan had lain down next to Anakin and cuddled tightly to his body.

“We’ll get out of this,” Anakin had said to him, “we always do.”

“You have too much faith in us,” was Obi Wan’s reply.

“Just the right amount, actually.”

And Obi Wan had turned to face him, turned to look him in the eye. The light of the double moons had illuminated Obi Wan’s face, had cast him in an ethereal glow. Anakin opened to mouth to tell Obi Wan his secret. To let him at least know.

But a group of rogue droids had found them, and Anakin’s chance blew away like dust in the wind.

“You lie,” Obi Wan says, and it jars Anakin from his memories and back in the present, “you didn’t. You _never_ did.”

“I always wanted more, Obi Wan.”

“I don’t want to hear this!”

“Well guess what,” Anakin shouts, “you don’t have a choice!”

Obi Wan looks at Anakin and won’t meet his gaze. He is pacing back and forth now, nothing like the picture of a perfectly composed Sith. His façade was fading fast, and the Obi Wan that Anakin knew was bleeding through.

Anakin breathes in deeply through his mouth. He watches as Obi Wan frantically paces back and forth, while throwing glances Anakin’s way. Like he knows what’s coming. Like he knows what Anakin is going to say.

Anakin closes his eyes.

It’s better late than never.

He opens them.

“Obi Wan, I –“

“Don’t say it,” Obi Wan cuts into Anakin’s speech, “please don’t say it.”

A beat. A pause. A lifetime. Obi Wan’s expression is bordering on hopeful disgust, and Anakin can feel the fear that sits coiled around his chest. This is his last card to play. His last hope. The only thing he has left to offer in his arsenal.

“I love you.”

And it’s with those words that Anakin watches as Obi Wan crumples to the ground, like a puppet whose strings have been swiftly and irrevocably cut, like there is nothing more in this world that could hold him upright anymore.

And in one motion, everything makes sense.

Oh.

_You don’t know what love can drive people to do._

_No._

“Obi Wan,” Anakin rushes to his side, but he doesn’t touch. He doesn’t think Obi Wan would like that at all.

“Leave me,” Obi Wan says and he has turned on his side, “leave me here.”

“No.”

“I thought you said I was your Master.”

“You didn’t accept it.”

“I do now. And I want you to leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Anakin reaches a hand out to Obi Wan’s shoulder and pushes him onto his back. “Obi Wan.”

“Anakin,” Obi Wan breathes and cups his face.

Anakin smiles and helps Obi Wan into a sitting position, and Obi Wan willingly lets him.

They sit in silence, side by side, shoulders brushing. Anakin thinks if he pretends that Obi Wan’s eyes aren’t yellow, that if he hadn’t tracked Obi Wan by the trail of dead bodies he left behind, he could pretend for a moment that it’s just the two of them. The way it used to be. Side by side, Obi Wan trying to get him to concentrate on meditating, and Anakin being too stubborn to sit still, even as a young adult.

Now Anakin can’t help but hold his body in rigidity, as if one move will send Obi Wan spiraling back into the closed off expression he had on before.

“I’m sorry,” Anakin says, after a long period of them just breathing in each other’s air. “I thought you knew. I always thought you knew.”

“I didn’t,” Obi Wan’s voice is hoarse with unshed tears.

“I love you,” the words fall easily from Anakin’s mouth, like he was always meant to say them, always meant to voice them out loud. “I have… always loved you.”

Anakin watches as Obi Wan closes his eyes, lets the words wash over his skin, settle into his bones. Anakin has never known that his words could ever affect someone so much.

When Obi Wan opens his eyes, they are blue.

“I’m still a Sith,” Obi Wan says, answering the unasked question poised on Anakin’s lips, “I am still the scariest thing in the galaxy.”

“I think Master Windu’s ‘fresher is a lot scarier than you are right now.”

Obi Wan chuckles, “You have too much faith in the goodness in me.”

“You are still the goodest man I’ve ever known.”

“I don’t believe that’s a word.”

“It is now,” Anakin shrugs and Obi Wan laughs, the sound freeing and endearing. Anakin wants to live in his laugh forever, wants to escape in Obi Wan.

A beat of silence passes before Anakin says, “I know you are a Sith. And I know I am a Jedi. But. I love you, Obi Wan. And I want you. I have always wanted you. Please. I won’t leave this place without you. No matter what you choose, I will die here tonight.”

Anakin levels his gaze directly at Obi Wan. The blue falters and the yellow shines beneath, but he does not look away. Obi Wan _must_ know.

“Are you threatening suicide?” Obi Wan says, his voice masking emotion.

“I will give myself up to the Force.”

“Ah, so. Jedi suicide.”

“Obi Wan, please. This isn’t a joke,” Anakin gets up and picks his lightsaber off the floor. “I am… nothing without you.”

“Nonsense,” Obi Wan scoffs, “Anakin, I get it. You _love_ me. Like the brother, or the father, or the friend, or the acquaintance you always wanted. But you don’t know what you are giving up. A life – a good one – with Padmé. A chance to have kids, to live in a big home with a beautiful garden, and your wilted roses. There are many things you don’t understand.”

“Trust me when I say I understand this,” Anakin can feel the anger building up behind his eyes, the shards of glass sticking into his skin and twisting like knives, why won’t Obi Wan understand?

“I – Padmé and I are not together. I left her. Over a year ago. She deserved better than someone who was still hung up on a childhood love. Someone who couldn’t move on. And that was me. When I thought you died in the outer rim, I went… mad.”

Anakin walks closer to Obi Wan, and reaches out for his hand, “I couldn’t sleep, eat, drink, or think about anything other than _what if_. What if I had saved you, what if I had been there, what if I could’ve made a difference? I lived for four months on _what if_. And I could see that Padmé didn’t deserve that. To be… tied to someone like me. I couldn’t _move_ on.”

“What did you do?” Obi Wan whispers, his voice fragile.

“I left. I left Padmé and I left the Jedi, I didn’t even tell the Council. I knew you had to still be alive – by the Force, I could feel it. And maybe it was partly wishful thinking. Maybe it was _all_ wishful thinking. But the thought of you dead… I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least try.”

“You found me,” Obi Wan says, “you did. Now what?”

“You come back home with me or I follow you. It’s your choice.”

“What if I want neither?”

“Then you’ll know what I’ll do.”

“An ultimatum, huh?”

“A choice. One or the other.”

Obi Wan chuckles, but it’s hollow, “Only a Sith deals in absolutes.”

Anakin puts a hand on Obi Wan’s shoulder, “Maybe there is more to me that you’ll have to uncover.”

“But –“

“It’s okay,” Anakin puts a finger over Obi Wan’s lips, “Let me.”

Anakin drops to his knees, “Master, please accept my allegiance. I submit myself wholly to you, in every aspect of my life. I am yours. Yours to rule, yours to claim. I pledge my life in your service.”

“Get up, Anakin.”

“Master –“

“Get up, Anakin,” Obi Wan repeats. His tone is hardened steel, the voice of a man who could bring a galaxy its knees, who could imbue the wrath of the dark side into an entire legion of troops. Obi Wan could make Anakin do anything. His knees feel like jelly as he stands.

“We are equals, you and I,” Obi Wan states, he puts a hand on Anakin’s shoulder to steady him; “you are not my slave, Anakin, nor my apprentice. You are, and always have been my equal.”

“Then accept me,” Anakin begs, “not as your apprentice, but as your right hand, as your lover, your consort, whatever you will have me as.”

“Do you know the severity of what you are offering?”

“I do.”

“Are you aware, that you will never be able to go back?”

“I am.”

“No Padmé. No Council. No more Jedi Knight. No picket fence. No children. No house on Naboo. This is a line you can’t uncross.”

“I understand.”

“Look at me,” Obi Wan says, and Anakin does. He meets Obi Wan’s gaze, eye for eye, and falls into the depths of the dark yellow hue. “Tell me again,” Obi Wan says.

“I un–“

“Not that. You know what I want to hear. Say it.” The words are hoarse and raw, like they’ve been ripped from the throat of a caged animal.

Anakin inhales a shaky breath, “I love you,” he breathes out.

“Again.”

“I love you.”

Obi Wan clenches his eyes tightly shut. “Again.”

“I love you.”

His grip tightens on Anakin’s shoulder, “Again.”

Anakin reaches a hand out and caresses Obi Wan’s face. He runs his hand from cheek to jawline, memorizing the feeling of Obi Wan’s skin beneath his hand. He is molten lava, the core of a burning star, the insides of a supernova. Obi Wan is both the dragon of his dreams, and the soothing lull that comforted him in his sleep.

He leans in slowly, and softly, and brushes his lips against Obi Wan’s. The barest of touches, the gentlest caress of skin on skin. “I love you,” Anakin whispers against Obi Wan’s mouth, “and I will say it until you get tired of me.”

In one fell swoop, Obi Wan pulls Anakin into a tight, iron clad, embrace. “I will never be tired of you.”

“You say that now,” Anakin smiles and ducks his head down.

Obi Wan pulls Anakin’s face up and looks at his eyes, “I will never tire of you.”

And Anakin believes him.

“You are now a Sith Lord,” Obi Wan pulls Anakin’s hands to his chest, right over his pounding heart. “From this day forward, the galaxy will know you as… Darth Vader.”

# # #

Anakin leaves the hangar in a blur of emotion after that.

He feels the same as he was before, yet, intrinsically different. Like the Force bends around his existence rather than passing through him. He feels the tight reign of control he held his emotions on, the noose he wrapped around his anger’s neck release in a gasp of breath.

Anakin feels free.

He lets the triumph pour through his veins and run through his mind, lets himself enjoy this victory unabashed and wholeheartedly.

There is no cost too high to pay for someone you love.

Anakin looks at Obi Wan and sees everything he has always wanted, finally within reach. They sneak onboard a shuttle that takes them to a neighboring planet, and Anakin is lost in the feel of Obi Wan’s hand against his, lost in the way he can catch Obi Wan stealing glances and looks at Anakin out of the corner of his eyes. Anakin soaks it up. He revels in being the center of Obi Wan’s universe; he blushes at the thought of Obi Wan being _his_.

Soon, before Anakin has even realized it, Obi Wan is tugging on his arm and leading him out of the shuttle and onto a speeder bike. They have landed on Corellia, its misty atmosphere chilling Anakin’s desert worn skin. The wind blows and he feels cold except for the point where his hand is still holding onto Obi Wan’s.

“I have a place here we can stay for a while,” Obi Wan says, and that’s the last words out of his mouth until they arrive, an hour and a half later outside a quaint but inviting looking home, it’s location far away from the general city, but not too far that the travel back into population would take too long.

Anakin soaks up the vibrant surroundings, the bright green forest behind the house looking less like a mysterious entity and more of an extension of the wonders of nature. He passes by flower beds of exotic and multicolored plants, their fragrance strong and mixing together to create a sharply sweet scent. It reminds him of the way Obi Wan smelled after long bouts of solo missions, it leaves Anakin wondering how long Obi Wan has owned this small sacred place.

“I’ve had it for four years,” Obi Wan answers Anakin’s question out loud.

Before Anakin can ask how, Obi Wan taps his temple, “I heard you through our bond. Your joy is rolling off you in waves. I can taste it.”

“I’m so happy,” Anakin says and smiles so wide. “I want you to know that I am so happy.”

“Me too,” Obi Wan says and looks away. A moment passes where he doesn’t know what to say before he motions to the front door. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

They walk up the small pathway, and Obi Wan unlocks the door, revealing walls painted a muted green, with just the barest of furniture inside.

“It’s a safe house,” Obi Wan scratches the back of his neck, “just one of many places I keep around the galaxy for when I need to lay low after… job opportunities.”

Anakin brushes Obi Wan’s extra comment off to the side. If Obi Wan was trying to scare him away by reminding Anakin that he’s been a mercenary for hell knows how long, then he was doing a poor job.

Anakin makes his way inside and plops himself down on the gray couch, “It’s perfect.”

Obi Wan smiles, “I’m glad you like it. Do you want to see the rooms?”

Anakin raises an eyebrow, “Show me the way.”

Obi Wan passes the living room and kitchen area and heads down a hallway, passing multiple doors before settling on the one at the end. He opens it and inside is a twin sized bed pushed to one side, and a drawer on the wall across from it. Anakin gazes at the array of photos on top the drawer, and almost bursts into tears.

“This was when they Knighted me,” Anakin runs his hands over the photo, “we got so drunk that night, I didn’t know there were photos.”

“Just the one,” Obi Wan says, and motions for Anakin to go ahead and pick it up. He studies the photo in his hands. It’s a candid shot from the impromptu party that Padmé had thrown in his honor. Obi Wan’s got an arm slung around Anakin’s shoulder and Anakin’s cheeks are rosy red from the awful amount of Twi’lek alcohol he was drinking that night. He can see the edge of Padmé’s finger in the corner of the photo; she never quite mastered the art of taking pictures while tipsy.

“That’s Padmé’s finger there,” Anakin points it out to Obi Wan, “hell, this feels like ages ago. Like an entirely different life.”

“That’s because it is now.” Obi Wan takes the photo from Anakin’s hands and puts it back on the drawer. “I have those there to remind me of what I have given up. Or of the things I thought I could never have.”

“Obi Wan –“

“Do you miss her?” He interjects.

“Padmé?” Anakin looks away from the collection of photos, “of course I do. She was one of my best friends.”

“I see,” Obi Wan says and takes a step back away from Anakin.

“Don’t do that to me,” Anakin matches him and steps forward.

“Maybe this was a mistake,” Obi Wan turns around, and paces. His room is big, his material things only taking up a small portion of the space. A huge window adorns the wall past the foot of the bed, and looks out into the forest. Anakin could get lost in the view.

“It wasn’t,” he says, so sure of himself. “It was the right choice.”

“It was the wrong one.”

“So you would have killed me in that hangar? Or let me die?”

“I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

“There were only two options. And you chose this one.”

Obi Wan turns back to Anakin, “What if I chose wrong? What if I just ruined your life?”

“You didn’t. You haven’t.”

Obi Wan shoves Anakin up against the wall, his back flat against the duracrete, and Obi Wan’s hand wrapped loosely around Anakin’s neck.

“What if I just ruined you?”

“I was already ruined before I found you.”

“I doubt that.”

Anakin pushes Obi Wan off and flips their position, using every inch of their height difference as an advantage over Obi Wan. He grips Obi Wan’s neck with his cybernetic arm and holds him in place.

“Don’t you get it, yet? I would have _killed_ for you. If that’s what it took to find you. I would have killed everyone in my path. I would have destroyed legions of troopers, armies of Jedi, if they were what stood between me and you. You didn’t ruin me, Obi Wan. Because when I found you there was nothing left to ruin.”

“Don’t say that about yourself – you’re perfect… you’ve always been so perfect.” Obi Wan runs a hand down Anakin’s face, “I have always had desires I shouldn’t have… wants that not a Sith should have.”

“If you asked me too,” Anakin says, “before. If you had asked me to become a Sith with you, I would’ve said yes.”

Obi Wan looks away from Anakin’s face, “How much I want you… how I have wanted you… it disgusts me. It has always disgusted me how I could never follow the rules when they surrounded you. Not even falling to the dark side could save me from my shame.”

“You’re not disgusting, you couldn’t be.”

“I am.”

“Then so am I,” Anakin presses his body closer to Obi Wan’s, “would it make you feel better to know I have wanted you since I was 16? That I would dream about you every night? Your hands, your body, your face, your eyes? That I desired you so much, and I wished so badly that you would just put your hands on me and take? Is that enough? Do you see it now? I am just as disgusting as you are.”

“Anakin –“

“No, you will _listen,_ ” Anakin can feel the Force flowing through him, but it is not the friendly caress he has come so deeply to recognize. This is the unfamiliar, yet familiar feel, the cold dark smog that runs between his bones, the cool sweep of anger and aggression, the pent up feelings he never let himself acknowledge. This is years of passive aggressive acceptance on never being able to desire the things he wanted to – of never being able to want the things he desired.

“I want you,” Anakin breathes out against Obi Wan’s lips, “and you want me. So take me. Have me. Right now.”

“Please –“

“Right _now_.” Anakin presses his body closer so he is entirely flush against Obi Wan’s body. Anakin knows Obi Wan can feel his desire swirling around them, lost in the Force, but now he can feel Anakin’s physical embodiment of that desire too.

And Anakin can feel the moment Obi Wan snaps into action. He can see the way it dawns in Obi Wan’s eyes. That he can have Anakin. That he’s allowed to _want_ him like this. He pushes Anakin off him, and Anakin falls onto the bed.

“ _Fine_. If that’s what you want, then I will have you.”

“Finally, you’re getting with the program,” Anakin smirks.

“Shut up, boy,” Obi Wan says and jumps onto the bed, his body covering Anakin. He pushes him up, closer to the pillows and holds Anakin’s arms down on either side of his head. “You have too many clothes on, don’t you agree?”

Anakin feels his robes move around and off his body, and he shivers with Obi Wan’s casual use of the Force. He feels goosebumps all over his arms as the cool air of the house hits his warm skin. “Obi Wan,” he moans.

“Hush, now, love,” Obi Wan says and kisses the junction between his neck and shoulder, “I am going to make you feel what I do.”

“Please,” Anakin begs, and he wants so badly, to understand Obi Wan’s desire – wants so badly to know what Obi Wan feels for him.

Soon, Anakin is shirtless, chest heaving with exertion, and heart full of so much compassion.

“Every single body I’ve ever dropped was for you,” Obi Wan presses a kiss to his cheek, “every single person I ever killed while I went into hiding was because I couldn’t take being so full of my love, my devotion,” he kisses down Anakin’s chest, “I was so jealous of her – of Padmé. She got to have what I could never.”

“You have me – now,” Anakin grunts out.

“When you talked about her the entire time on our way to Coruscant, when you wouldn’t let a word about anyone else slip out of your mouth… that was when I knew what I had become. And what I always would be.” Obi Wan undid the ties on Anakin’s trousers and yanked them off his body. He stared at the picture Anakin made, debauched and red from head to toe.

“I loved you so much back then and I hated myself for it. I never thought I would have this, right here. Right now. Not even my wildest dreams could have made this up.”

“It’s real – I’m real,” Anakin pushes against Obi Wan’s grip and runs his free hand through Obi Wan’s hair, and _yanks_. A breathy moan escapes Obi Wan’s mouth. “You feel that? Was that real enough for you? Or shall I do it again?” Anakin smiles darkly.

“You are a constant surprise,” Obi Wan bites the top of Anakin’s left thigh. He takes off his shirt and divests himself of his pants.

Anakin soaks in the view like a man who has finally found his purpose in life. “I want to be loved by you,” he breathes out. “Come on. Do it.”

“You are so impatient, my friend,” Obi Wan chuckles. He runs his hands up and down Anakin’s sides, and presses his chest to Anakin’s.

“Do you want to hear a secret?” Obi Wan whispers into Anakin’s ear.

Anakin wraps his arms around Obi Wan’s shoulders, holding him in place, “What’s that?”

“You have always been the most dangerous thing about me.”

Anakin shivers as the weight of Obi Wan’s words wash over him. As the reality of what they are about to do, settles into his mind.

“If you… want to leave right now, I wouldn’t blame you.”

Anakin gulps. He can picture himself pushing Obi Wan off of him, gathering up his clothes and the last shreds of his dignity, walking out of this small, secluded sector of Obi Wan’s life, and never seeing him again. He can envision himself being welcomed back with sighs and semi-happy relief from the Jedi Council, and a stern look but a gracious smile from Padmé. She wouldn’t take him back like they used to be, the picket fence and two children household was never where he was supposed to end.

Or maybe she would.

Anakin has no way of knowing. And no way of guessing the ending to a life that feels a million light years away.

He looks up at Obi Wan’s face, at his yellowed Sith eyes, feels Obi Wan’s body surrounding him from the outside.

“Your eyes are yellow, my friend,” Obi Wan murmurs against Anakin’s cheek.

He has made up his mind.

“I’m not leaving you,” Anakin says, “I choose you.”

Obi Wan smiles so wide, Anakin can see the galaxies coming to life behind his eyes. He feels his blood rush south, and he feels the blush that creeps across his cheeks, showing what he’s really feeling inside.

Obi Wan opens the bedside drawer and pulls out a small jar of oil; he liberally coats his fingers, and Anakin watches, mesmerized, at the way the liquid shines against Obi Wan’s hands.

“Relax, love,” Obi Wan says, “and repeat after me.”

Anakin nods his head.

“ _Peace is a lie,_ ” Obi Wan recites, his hands find purchase on Anakin’s body, trailing down to lead to where Anakin wants him to be, “ _there is only passion_.”

“ _Peace is a lie_ ,” Anakin repeats and it’s breathless, half moan, half grunt, it takes everything Obi Wan has not to stop right there, “ _there is only passion._ ”

“ _Through passion I gain strength, through strength I gain power._ ” Obi Wan’s hands speed up their movements and Anakin’s breathing gets harsher, his eyes closing. His voice shakes around the words, but he repeats them, just like he was told too.

“ – _I gain power._ ”

“ _Through power, I gain victory_ ,” Obi Wan pauses in his movements and Anakin whines.

“Hurry – up,” Anakin exhales, “ _please_.”

“Repeat it.”

“ _Through_ – ugh – _power I gain victory_ ,” Anakin moans the Code of the Sith and it’s like music to Obi Wan’s ears.

Obi Wan continues his steady pace, “ _Through victory my chains are broken._ ”

He removes his hand and replaces it with himself, holding Anakin’s arms on either side of his head as he pushes in.

“Ah – ohh, _through victory my_ – ugh – _chains are broken_ ,” Anakin grunts as Obi Wan fills him, he opens his eyes to be greeted by bright yellow, like the sunflowers growing outside in Obi Wan’s garden, like the Corellian sun hidden behind a thick blue mass of clouds, like the inside of a star, waiting, patiently waiting to devour him whole.

“ _The Force shall set me free._ ”

Anakin shakes a wrist out of Obi Wan’s grip and pulls his face down to his, “ _the Force shall set me free_ ,” he whispers against Obi Wan’s lips, and seals it with a kiss.

# # #

When Anakin wakes up, he feels as if he’s spent a lot of time dreaming. He bolts upright in bed, convinced the events swirling through his mind are nothing more than a dream. He smells sharply sweet flowers, and the unmistakable scent of waffles. He gets out of the bed, naked, and moves to the look out the window.

The green forest of Corellia is still there, as is the blue grey fog that seems permanent around the planet.

Anakin heaves out a sigh of relief.

“I made breakfast,” Obi Wan says from behind him, and Anakin turns around to be greeted by a smiley Obi Wan, leaning against the doorframe, with his hands crossed over his chest.

“I thought I was dreaming,” Anakin says, “I thought for one horrible moment, that it wasn’t real.”

“If either of us is dreaming, it must be me.” Obi Wan moves and closes the distance between himself and Anakin, enveloping him in a tight hug. “I have wanted –“ he starts.

“I know,” Anakin says, and he looks up at Obi Wan’s eyes, gleaming golden in the light morning, no longer burnished, no longer molten, no longer sizzling with rage. Just yellow – like the sun. Like a supernova seconds before it implodes.

“I love you,” Obi Wan breathes, and buries his face against Anakin’s neck.

“I know,” Anakin says again, as he runs a hand through Obi Wan’s hair and down his back, and he does.


End file.
